“Turn and Face the Strange Changes:” A Year Without David Bowie​by Emily Reed

​A year after the shocking death of David Bowie, the world has still not recovered from the loss. Many, myself included, say that 2016 began its devastating, downward spiral into the worst year in recent history when Bowie died.This is because Bowie’s death, on a widescale level, ripped an irreparable hole in the music industry. From a smaller scale, this loss greatly affected his loving family and his fans.As a fan, it’s difficult to imagine a world without Bowie, and yet we’ve been living in that world for a year.I still remember the first time I heard a Bowie song. As I am someone with an impaired memory, this is particularly impressive that from the beginning, he had such a lasting impacting on me.This song was entitled “Life on Mars?” In the eighth grade, I stumbled upon it by chance when researching for a science project about Mars and the possibility of exterrestrial life. A thumbnail for the music video popped up on Google and I decided to take a chance on the bizarre man with the blue eyeshadow.Once I finished the video, I was officially starstruck. His theatrical vocal delivery, style, and outlandish lyrics intrigued me and I listened to the rest of his album Hunky Dory the same day.Quickly, I developed an appreciation for the art he created.I loved the subtle references to George Orwell’s novel 1984 in the album Diamond Dogs, the poetic brilliance of the song “In the Heat of the Morning,” and the compelling story of the deliciously complicated, bisexual alien rockstar, Ziggy Stardust.Aside from his music, he had quite the film presence. His classic role was in the 1986 film Labyrinth. The ridiculousness of his portrayal of Jareth, the Goblin King, in the famous number “Dance Magic Dance” never failed to make me smile and get up to dance along. This kind of reaction from me is significant because it was during a time in my life where I was doing anything but smiling and dancing.However, you can’t make art without letting a little piece of yourself seep through. Through his art, I began to admire him as a person as well.He frequently changed personas, musical styles, and his wardrobe choices at the drop of a hat. He was a chameleon who didn’t care about what other people thought of him. Rolling Stone said, "I mean he was half out of sci-fi rock and half out of the Japanese theater. The clothes were, at that time, simply outrageous. Nobody had seen anything like them before."While he definitely wasn’t afraid to push boundaries and be himself on the outside but the greater feat was his ability to express his innermost emotions on a large platform.He wrote about the extremely personal issue of mortality in “Lazarus” and religion in “Word on a Wing.” Besides his songs, he wasn’t afraid to be quirky and candid in interviews. When asked, “What kind of qualities do you appreciate in a man?” He wittily replied, “A man who returns his books.”His individuality was such an inspiration for me because I struggled to express myself fully as I was blanketed by depression. Slowly, I began to take his lead and I started to change my outward appearance by ditching the drab black garments in exchange for bright purple pants.By nature, I’m not a miserable person. I just hit a rough patch and it was my job to overcome it.Along with the new bright hues, I started to change the way I interacted with people. I became less angry and bitter towards anyone who wasn’t a close friend that tried to talk to me. And before I knew it, the end of eighth grade suddenly came and I was in the position to enter high school as the best version of myself.Of course there are still loose ends that haven’t been tied up, but, for the most part, I’m doing well. In fact, I recently met up with a friend who knew me during middle school. After we exchanged pleasantries and caught up on the local happenings, I asked her, “Have I changed since middle school?”She replied, “Your personality is still the same. You still love The Beatles, poetry, and your dog, etc. But now, you seem happier.”I thank Bowie for the massive impact he had on me that he didn’t even know about. Bowie can continue to have a positive posthumous effect on the masses because it takes 10 billion years for a star to burn out. And I don’t know about you, but I think that’s encouraging.